Racetrack's Migraine
by drinkinthemoment
Summary: It was hard enough for Jack to protect his brothers from Snyder on a regular day, but Racetrack's migraines add a whole level of complexity. One-shot. Rated T for violence.


Race felt like he had spent hours staring up at the ceiling, trying to sleep, while Jack and Crutchie breathed heavily on either side of him in the bed they all shared. It was a tiny bed, but it took up well over half of the tiny bedroom, the first of many in a long hallway of makeshift tiny bedrooms with tiny beds inhabited by three boys each in the group home in Manhattan. Race was getting dizzy and his stomach turned a bit, often the first signs that a migraine would plague him for the next couple of days. "Jack?" he whispered quietly, before deciding it was better not to wake him. Jack spent all day worrying about the rest of the boys; it was best to let him sleep. Race climbed out of bed and checked to see both of his brothers undisturbed. The boys were really not supposed to leave their rooms after lights out, but Race thought if he could quickly make it to the bathroom just a few feet away and splash some cold water on his face, he could possibly stave off the migraine for the night, maybe even get some sleep.

He opened and closed the door silently and started heading for the small bathroom while his head spun and vision blurred. He lowered himself to the ground before his vision blacked out completely. Unfortunately, when he came to, Snyder was standing over him, hauling him to his feet when they made eye contact faster than Race's head could handle. "What are you doing lying in the middle of the hallway after lights out, boy?" Snyder demanded. Race started to answer, but was already being shoved toward the stairs down to Snyder's office, so he stopped himself before he reached an explanation. It didn't matter anyway; Snyder looked for any excuse to torture anyone.

Once inside his office, Snyder removed Race's shirt and laid him across his desk. His office had a cabinet full of tools he liked to use to beat young boys, but tonight he just removed his belt from around his waist and whipped Racetrack until he cried. Race never let himself cry during a beating, but he just didn't have the energy to remain stoic. It wasn't even the beating that hurt that bad—though Snyder sure knew how to make that belt sting— it was the way the pressure in his head built up when his muscles tensed in preparation for the next lash. All he had wanted was one more night of peace before the inevitable migraine, and instead it was going to come sooner and harder.

Upstairs, Jack awoke with a start, noticing how much empty space there was in the bed with Race missing. "Race?" he whispered into the void, feeling around, checking the floor, finding nothing. He crawled out of bed without alerting Crutchie and opened the door to the hallway. From still inside the bedroom, Jack could see the light creeping out from under Snyder's office door downstairs, and his heart sunk. He tiptoed down the stairs, and as he approached could hear the unmistakable sound of leather hitting flesh followed by Race's cries and begging for it to end. Jack wanted nothing more than to break down the door and lay his own body on top of Race's to protect him, but he knew Snyder wouldn't have it and it would only be worse for Race. Instead, he retreated up the stairs and snuck into the room Specs shared with Albert and Elmer. He carefully only awakened the oldest and pulled him into the hallway. "Snyder has Race in there," Jack informed Specs. "I have no idea how or why it happened, but it sounds bad." Specs followed Jack back downstairs where they both leaned against the closed office door.

"Please stop," Race's voice was shaking. He was sniffling, crying, begging. "I'm sorry, I won't do it again, I promise, please stop." Race typically maintained his composure during a beating, so Jack and Specs were extremely worried about his current state. When the noises finally stopped, Jack and Specs hid in the next room over from Snyder's office, waiting for them to come out.

Snyder set the belt down on his desk next to Race, who slowly began to stand up, but Snyder shoved him back. "Not so fast," Snyder instructed. "Don't move." Snyder grabbed Race's wrists and tightly tied them behind his back with an old rope, then yanked him upright by a fist full of hair. He escorted him to the small dark closet in his office, shoved him inside and locked the door behind him before Race could even realize what was happening. Race slid to the ground. With his hands behind his back and his knees to his chest, there was just barely enough room for his feet to fit before hitting the other wall. This is where he'd have to stay for the night, before being "freed" only to face Snyder again in the morning. He didn't know what hurt the most: his back burning from the belt, his wrists bleeding from rope burn, or his migraine growing every second.

Jack and Specs watched as Snyder exited alone, locked his office door, and climbed the stairs to his own room. They exchanged nervous glances, then tried the doorknob anyway, knowing it wouldn't budge. "You know who can pick a lock?" Specs asked.

"Finch," Jack obviously knew the answer, but was still weighing the risks and rewards. If Snyder caught Jack and Specs trying to break Race out of his office, it would be bad news, but probably only for Race. Both Jack and Specs were old enough that Snyder tended to leave them alone. He got no joy out of beating kids who didn't cry or at least whine and grimace. However, if Finch got caught, Snyder would surely double down on any punishment for both Race and Finch. Jack didn't know if he could endanger another kid like that. But they had just listened to Race screaming and crying, something so out of character for him, Jack agreed to at least wake Finch and let him decide for himself.

Once again, Specs and Jack returned upstairs to another quiet bedroom, and pulled Finch to the hall without disturbing his bedmates, Buttons and JoJo. He enthusiastically agreed to his mission to free Race, despite Jack reminding him again and again how much trouble he'd be in if they got caught. It only took him a few minutes to break into the office, and once inside, it was pretty obvious Race was behind a second locked door. Another moment later, the door was flung open, revealing the shirtless and terrified Race tied up in a ball on the floor. Jack lifted him to his feet and pulled him in a hug before letting go with one arm and bringing Finch to them. "Finch, you're amazing, now go back to bed before anyone sees ya." Finch hugged back, nodded, and ran upstairs without issue. Jack turned his attention back to Race, doing a quick once-over to survey the damage. Specs untied Race's wrists, which Jack gently rubbed before turning Race around to see his back. Jack looked to Specs, confused. Race was covered in welts and bruises from the belt, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Race had taken way worse beatings before without so much as a peep. Something was going on. Jack turned Race back to him and lifted his chin to meet his sparkling blue eyes. "Migraine?" Jack asked. Race broke eye contact, and Jack had his answer. He wrapped him back in a hug, holding Race's head against his chest. "Let's get you to bed."

While lying in the dark, Jack heard Race's quiet voice. "How are we gonna wake up early enough to get back down there before Snyder notices I'm missing?"

"I'm not locking you back in a closet, Racer, we'll just deal with whatever punishment Snyder hands out to escaped convicts." Race could hear Jack's smile in his voice, and he relaxed slightly. "It can't be much worse than you were gonna get anyway."

Race initially felt unsure, but he trusted Jack fully. His headache prevented a restful sleep, but he did close his eyes for a while before Snyder, predictably, came looking for him. Race shot up when he heard Snyder's footsteps on the stairs. Jack woke up when Snyder threw their bedroom door open. Crutchie, bless his innocent heart, stayed asleep until Snyder yanked Race from the bed and grabbed him by his bloodied wrists. "That's what I thought," Snyder yelled. "See, I had thought I left you tied in a closet last night, but when you weren't there this morning, I started to second guess myself. But here's the evidence on your wrists." Race flinched when Snyder touched his rope burn. "Do you like confusing me, Racetrack?"

"No, sir," Race was shaking with fear, even though he knew this was coming.

"Who got you out?" Snyder demanded, and Race looked to Jack, panicked.

"I did," Jack lied, but Snyder saw right through him.

"You're not smart enough to pick a lock," he looked back at Race. "Tell me who got you out." When Race was silent for too long, Snyder grabbed Crutchie with his other hand, pulling him out of bed. "Tell me, or Crutchie suffers." Race once again looked to Jack with tears in his eyes, not knowing what to do. Jack didn't know either, but it was his job to make these snap decisions, to protect as many brothers as he could.

"It was Crutchie," Jack lied again, because he knew Crutchie would want to protect Finch, and because Jack could keep his eye on Crutchie and could take care of him himself instead of relying on someone else to watch after Finch. Snyder sensed Jack was still lying, but he let it go, because he loved torturing Crutchie. Even though Crutchie was strong enough to stay quiet, his gimp leg gave him an inherent vulnerability that Snyder couldn't get enough of.

"Very well, then," Snyder agreed. "Kelly, take off their shirts for them, then go get me my belt. I left it in my office last night." Even though Snyder didn't physically hurt Jack anymore, this was his own cruel way of torturing him, forcing him to play a small part in his brothers' beatings. Jack helped Race out of his shirt, careful to avoid his wrists and too much head movement. He turned to Crutchie and offered a quick and quiet apology, which Crutchie waved off with a smile. He's a saint.

Jack left to get the belt, and Snyder shoved the other two boys onto their knees and leaned them across the bed. Jack stood in the corner with his stomach in knots and watched as Snyder whipped them, one by one and both at the same time, in no predictable pattern. When a lash landed where Race had already been hit last night, the skin would break and he'd bleed. Race whimpered. Jack cringed. Eventually, it was over, and Snyder allowed Jack to help his brothers to their feet. Snyder's mouth curled into an evil smile when he noticed Race steadying himself on Jack a little more than usual. He leaned down to face level, like he was trying to read Race's thoughts through his eyes. "Do you get migraines?" Snyder questioned, hopefully.

"No!" Jack yelled before Race had a chance to answer. It was less of a lie, more of a plea to leave Race alone. But it was too late, and Snyder now knew Race's weakness. Once again, he dragged Race by his wrists down the stairs to his office.

Jack and Crutchie watched, horrified, until the office door slammed shut. "Are you okay?" Jack asked turning to Crutchie, gently touching his newly forming bruises. "I am _so_ sorry. I couldn't let Snyder have Finch."

"I knew you were protecting Finch. It's fine; I'm fine. Better than Race is gonna be," Crutchie sighed sadly, and Jack brought him into a hug.

Downstairs, Snyder sat Race in a chair and sat himself across from him, their knees touching. Race felt disgusted, and pushed himself as far back in his chair as he could, but there was no escape.

"What makes your head hurt worse?" Snyder asked. Race ignored him, refusing to make eye contact, rubbing at the sensitive skin on his wrists. "Fast movement?" Snyder suggested, grabbing him by the hair and whipping his head backwards. Race gasped and Snyder smiled. "How about loud noise?" Snyder grabbed an old mug of tea from his desk that had a small stirring spoon in it and loudly banged them together next to Race's ear, before shattering the cup on the ground. Race cringed and shut his eyes tightly. "Bright lights?" Snyder retrieved a flashlight from a desk drawer and shined it into Race's eyes. The tears fell involuntarily. There was a constant pounding in his right temple, only made worse by Snyder's games. It felt like his brain was trying to escape through his right eye socket, and it was accompanied by intractable dizziness and nausea. Race slid out of his chair and crawled to the trashcan near Snyder's desk just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the bin. Snyder was satisfied. "You can go back to the others now, but this will be a fun few days for us."

Race ran out of the office as fast as he could go while remaining upright on his feet. When he got to the stairs, his vision danced preventing him from seeing each step, so he could only crawl on all fours. He stood outside his bedroom, trying to dry the tears before going inside to hide them from Jack and Crutchie, but they wouldn't stop falling and he was desperate to lay his head down. He entered the room, and both of his brothers who were lying on their bed jumped up to greet him. He ignored them and collapsed onto the bed.

"Racer, are you okay?" Jack asked hurriedly, but he didn't get an answer. He knelt down beside the bed and gently massaged Race's temple, while Crutchie got back in bed and rubbed Race's back. "Talk to us, kid. What happened?" Race just shook his head. He never was this quiet, even when he had a migraine. Jack was worried. "Stay here," he ordered, then left the room to talk to Specs. "I gotta go somewhere for a few hours. Whatever you do, don't let Snyder touch Race again. If he even lays his eyes on him, he's gotten too close. Got it?" Specs gave a salute acknowledging that he understood and would protect Race at all costs.

Jack returned to the room where Crutchie ran his fingers through Race's hair while he tried to find sleep. "I have somewhere I gotta be," Jack told them, opening the window to climb down the fire escape. "I'll be back in a few hours. I love you both."

Race didn't respond, so Crutchie answered for the both of them. "We love you, too. Be careful."

Jack was shaking with anger on his walk to Brooklyn. He had been so meticulous to keep Snyder from finding out about Race's migraines ever since they started a couple years ago. Jack prided himself on his ability to protect his brothers, but he would never let his pride get in the way of actually protecting them. He knew when to ask for help. It was hard for him to admit, but at least for the next few days, Race would be safer without him.

Jack finally got to the building he was looking for: the group home in Brooklyn. It looked a lot like his own in Manhattan. He scaled the fire escape and tapped at the window he knew belonged to Spot Conlon. Spot sat on his bed, feet propped up, and was startled by Jack's knocking.

"What are you doing here, Kelly?" he asked, almost annoyed, but his demeanor changed when he saw the look on Jack's face.

"It's Race." Before Jack could say more, Spot was slipping his shoes on, climbing out the window, and following Jack down the fire escape. The two walked together back to Manhattan, and Jack explained the situation. He didn't love the idea of Race staying in Brooklyn—it wasn't very safe there either—but he knew if he stayed in Manhattan any longer, Snyder would break him. He worried that he already had; Jack had never seen Race so quiet. "Do ya think you can keep him safe here for a couple of days?" Jack asked Spot.

"Yeah, I thinks I can," Spot responded. "Our guardian, Mr. Taylor, he isn't as bad as Spider. He just forgets to feed us sometimes. Or really, he forgets we exist."

Jack had seen the way the Brooklyn boys were. They were certainly neglected, but rarely beaten like the Manhattan boys. Again, it wasn't an ideal situation for Racetrack, but it was better than whatever Snyder would do.

"Sometimes an ice pack on his forehead or the back of his neck will help with the pain," Jack explained to Spot. "He says it's a lot of pressure, so I try to rub on his forehead just above his eyebrow or his temple just above his ear. It's okay if he doesn't want to eat. He gets real nauseous when the pain gets bad. But make sure he drinks a lot of water. Wake him up in the middle of the night to drink, too. When he can't sleep, I lay him on my chest and let him feel me breathe. It helps him regulate his own breathing and sometimes that'll be enough for him to drift off to sleep. Otherwise, I just try to keep him as still as possible in a dark, quiet room. Any movement or sound or light at all makes him cringe. It'll pass in a day or two. It's just a day or two of hell for him and everyone who cares about him at all."

Spot listened intently, and he let a small smile creep to his face. He had known Jack was a good big brother, but he really did go above and beyond for Race. "I'll take good care of him, Kelly."

"I know you will." Jack lead Spot up the fire escape to his own bedroom, and they climbed through the window where a bunch of the boys had gathered to keep Race company while he tried desperately to sleep. "What are all you monkeys doin' in here? Leave Racer alone, he needs his sleep." Jack shooed all the boys out, then sat on the edge of the bed by Race's head. "How ya feelin' now, Racer?" He gently touched his blonde curls.

Race's eyes opened weakly. "Like death would be a welcome alternative to the current situation." Jack couldn't help but smile at the fact Race had strung that many words together to make a sentence. Maybe the old Racetrack was still in there after all.

"I'm sorry you're hurting. It'll be better soon," Jack promised. "And, listen, Spot's here, and he's gonna take you back to Brooklyn with him. You'll be safer away from Spider until your head is all healed up."

The thought of being away from Snyder was a relief, but it was equally upsetting to have to be away from Jack and the other boys. Race considered protesting, but he knew Jack had already made the decision, and it was no use. Jack and Spot helped Race to his feet. "Lemmie go say goodbye to the fellas," Race demanded as he headed towards the door, but Jack pulled him back.

"It's not safe out there, Racer. If Spider sees ya, you're done. Go with Spot; I'll tell them you said bye."

"No, I gotta see Romeo," Race argued.

"Racetrack, it's not safe," Jack reiterated sternly, and Race was forced to give up, as he always was when Jack used his full name.

The walk to Brooklyn felt longer than usual. Race's head was throbbing so hard that even the New York City streets looked like a nice place to lie down. Spot wouldn't let him, and kept encouraging him that there wasn't much further. Finally, he found himself lying in Spot's bed, breathing hard from the long walk and climb to the room, but more from the searing pain.

"Kelly will kill me if you don't drink this water before you sleep," Spot offered Race a cup. Race smiled and rolled his eyes and gulped it down even though it made his stomach feel upset. After that, he quickly drifted to sleep, awakening every time there was the slightest movement. When his eyes crept open, Spot was always there, watching him, offering more water, asking what to do to help.

"Snyder's gonna kill me when I go back," Race confided, with his eyes still closed.

"Yeah, maybe," Spot agreed, gently touching Race's curls.

"I just hope he's not killing one of my brothers in my place right now."

"I don't think Jack would let that happen," Spot reassured, and Race relaxed, knowing Jack always did his best to protect his brothers, but he was no miracle worker.

"Where is Racetrack?" Romeo demanded entering Jack's room. He was angry.

"He went to Brooklyn with Spot. He's safer there. It's just a few days," Jack answered calmly.

"Brooklyn's not safe! You don't even let me walk over there by myself!" Romeo argued. "He was too much trouble for ya, so ya sent him away?"

"Hey!" Crutchie interrupted. "Jack has to do what's best for all of us. He works hard to protect us all, and right now, Race isn't safe here. Do you think any of us want Race in Brooklyn? Of course not. But it's the only option." Hearing it from Crutchie's mouth, Jack finally felt for the first time confident that he did the right thing.

Romeo hung his head and his eyes filled with tears. "Hey, it's okay," Jack held his arms out to the youngest of his brothers. Romeo let Jack hug him, but didn't hug back. "I miss him already, too," Jack told Romeo, who nodded in agreement.

Snyder entered the room expecting to see Racetrack but finding Romeo in his place. "Where's migraine boy?" he asked angrily.

"He went out for some fresh air," Jack lied. "Couldn't stop puking ever since your little meeting in your office earlier."

Snyder growled and grabbed Romeo by the shirt. "Well, maybe you can go find him, and let him know Romeo stays with me until he returns." Snyder dragged the petrified Romeo out of Jack and Crutchie's room. Jack's eyes told Romeo to stay calm and they'd rescue him soon, but it's still hard to maintain composure with the fear of being alone with Snyder indefinitely.

In his office, Snyder informed Romeo he was too tired to deal with him, and he wanted to save his energy to torture Racetrack. Instead, he shoved Romeo into his little closet, Race's bedroom the night prior, and locked the door. Romeo was terrified in the tiny pitch black enclosure, but at least was grateful to have been spared a beating for the time being. He sat in the darkness, hugged his knees to his chest, and tried to breathe calmly.

When Romeo didn't return by bedtime, all the boys knew he was in Snyder's closet. Jack went to sleep angry, but knowing Romeo in a closet was the better alternative to Racetrack dead.

"Let's go get Romeo," Finch shook Jack awake well after midnight, ready with the tools he used to pick locks.

"We can't, Finch, it's not safe."

Finch was shocked and confused. "It was safe when it was Race, but now it's Romeo and you don't care?"

"No," Jack yelled back. "I _do_ care. And it _wasn't_ safe when it was Racer, and I didn't want to let you do it, but Specs convinced me. And Romeo will be okay in there; Race was sick. _And_ now that Spider knows someone picked the lock last time, he'll be on alert. It's just too risky, Finch." Jack rarely yelled, but the stress of Race in Brooklyn was getting to him,

"Fine," Finch shouted too loudly and stormed out. He closed the door behind him, and stood in the hall outside Jack's room, looking around. To his left was the rest of the boys' rooms, his own just two doors down. To the right was Snyder's room and the one bathroom everyone shared. Directly in front of him down the stairs was Snyder's office. He thought of Romeo tied in that closet the way they had found Race the night before and shuttered. He had been successful when he freed Racetrack. There were no repercussions. Jack even called him amazing. He could do it again for Romeo. It's what Race would want. So he decided to go at it alone. He picked the lock to Snyder's office without issue, but unfortunately, Jack was right. Snyder was waiting for this moment, and before he could get the closet door open, Snyder joined him in the office.

"Was your bed too comfortable for you, Finch? Were you trying to join Romeo in his new bedroom?" Snyder questioned menacingly as he opened the closet door.

"No, sir," Finch stammered out just before being thrown into the closet with Romeo, the door slammed shut behind them. There wasn't enough room for both boys to sit, so Finch helped Romeo to his feet. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," Romeo muttered in response. "What are you doing here?"

"I was tryin' to get ya out. Guess it didn't go so well," Finch answered, nervously. The two boys hugged each other tightly, then spent the night taking turns sitting and resting while the other stood uncomfortably. It was miserable, but they knew Jack would get them out soon. He never let any of them suffer for too long.

In the morning, the bright sun streaming into Spot's window felt like knives entering Race's skull. He moaned, and Spot immediately offered some water and gently massaged his head as Jack had instructed. "Sorry," Spot gestured to the window. "We don't got no curtains or nothin' here. The sun sure is bright this time of day." Race grimaced in agreement and buried his eyes in his arms. The two chatted quietly until they were interrupted by Spot's bedroom door swinging open. It was Mr. Taylor. He was no where near as terrifying as Snyder, but his presence was still imposing.

"I thought I heard you talking in here," he barked. "Who the hell is this?"

"He's just a kid I found on the street," Spot lied quickly. "He wasn't feeling well, so I let him stay the night."

"Tell me this is Racetrack Higgins," Taylor demanded, and both boys locked panicked eyes.

"Race, run!" Spot yelled, immediately placing himself between Race and Taylor.

"Spot, I—" Race tried to protest but was interrupted quickly.

"Racetrack, _now!_ " So Race ignored the throbbing in his head and nausea in his stomach, and jumped out the window as fast as he could go. In his peripheral vision, he caught images of Taylor shoving Spot down, kicking him in his stomach.

"I'm gonna catch you, boy," Taylor yelled out the window. "And Snyder's gonna pay me good money to get you back."

By some miracle, Race was able to stay on his feet long enough to escape Taylor's view. By the time he crossed into Manhattan, his heart was pounding so hard, his chest tightness almost overpowered his headache. But not quite; the headache was the worst it had been. His vision started to go dark and his legs were wobbling underneath him when he found himself staring up at the safest place in the world, so he knocked on the door.

"Racetrack, what happened, baby?" Medda asked, concerned, swinging open the door and pulling Race inside. "Does Jack know you're here?"

Race shook his head and tried to explain. "Snyder found out about my migraines and wouldn't leave me alone, so Jack sent me to stay with Spot in Brooklyn, but Mr. Taylor found out and tried to kidnap me to sell me back to Snyder and then I ran here." It came out a jumbled mess, but Medda caught the gist.

"Let's get you cleaned up, baby." Miss Medda helped Race wash his face clean of the sweat and tears. She tucked him into her giant comfortable bed, probably the happiest place Race had ever found himself, and she gave him a cup of warm tea and helped him swallow it down. "I'm gonna fix this, Racetrack, you stay here and sleep."

"Thanks, Miss Medda," Race immediately drifted out of consciousness.

It was rare for there to be a knock at the door of the group home ever, so it caught the attention of everyone inside. The boys filed out of their rooms and gathered at the top of the steps, while Snyder shot them all a warning glance to be on their best behavior for this unexpected guest as he went to answer the door. JoJo quietly found Jack and informed him that Finch wasn't in their bed this morning, and Jack cringed knowing he had ignored his pleas to leave Romeo alone and gotten himself caught. He couldn't blame him; no one wanted Romeo stuck in Snyder's office, but his heart sunk at the thought of Finch being in there with him now.

"Miss Medda!" a chorus of boys rang out and they all went bouncing down the stairs to greet her.

She hugged them all, and pulled Elmer closest. "Race is at the theater. Go tell Jack," she whispered in his ear, and Elmer dutifully relayed the message.

"Mr. Snyder," Medda turned her attention to the boys' guardian. "You are under investigation. There have been reports of a missing child that is supposed to be in your care. Is that accurate?"

"Absolutely not," Snyder denied.

"Okay then, I need to speak with a Mr. Racetrack Higgins?" Snyder knew he was caught, but he also vowed to himself he would get away with it.

"Higgins is a runaway; he's impossible to keep track of. The only way I could know his whereabouts would be to chain him up in here."

"Oh like you're so above chaining kids up!" Jack shouted angrily from the top of the stairs. "Why don't you open your office to show Miss Medda what's inside?" Jack made his way down the stairs joining the rest of his brothers. Snyder glared at him so hard Jack could feel it inside his soul, but he steadied his breath, knowing he was about to win. Miss Medda made him feel invincible.

Snyder was forced to open his office door, but turned to Jack and Medda convincingly when nothing was inside. "Now the closet," Jack demanded gesturing toward Romeo and Finch's tiny hiding place. When the door was flung open, both boys tumbled out, shielding their eyes from the light and collapsing with exhaustion. Jack scooped them both up and held them tightly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Romeo mumbled, hugging Jack back as hard as he could.

"I'm so sorry," Finch cried, upset he disobeyed Jack.

"No, _I'm_ so sorry," Jack turned Finch's chin up to meet his eye. "You did nothing wrong."

"Well Mr. Snyder," Medda interrupted the boys' reunion. "This is awfully damning evidence. I'm afraid I'm going to have to report you to the authorities." The boys had to hold back their gleeful cheers. Could this really be happening?

"Specs, Albert, run to the theater and bring Race back home," Jack ordered and the two obliged. When they reached the theater, they found Race sound asleep, cuddled up in Miss Medda's bed.

"Should we wake him?" Albert asked Specs.

"You already did," Race mumbled from beneath the covers, but he was so excited to hear his brother's voice. Specs and Albert both joined Race in the bed, smiling wide.

"You can come home now. It's safe," Specs informed him.

"Forever," Albert added, and they relayed the story to Race who was in disbelief. He wanted to stay and rest his head a while longer, but now he couldn't wait to return to the group home if Snyder wouldn't be there.

No one seemed to notice them when they walked through the front door. Medda was loudly discussing plans for the remodel: "her" bedroom could be in Snyder's office, turning the place of torture into a welcoming environment where she would stay until they found a more permanent guardian. They could knock down all the walls in the boys' bedrooms to make one large room for them all to share. Everyone but Jack, who needed and deserved his own space. "We can change Snyder's old bedroom around, so it won't remind you of him at all. New curtains, new floors, new furniture! It can be your brand new room," Medda suggested.

Jack smiled. "If we just change the sheets, that would be good enough for me." And of course Miss Medda had already taken care of that.

"Racetrack's back!" Romeo's enthusiasm interrupted the planning and he launched himself at his big brother. Everyone's ran for hugs and celebration, then returned to the excitement of deciding the sleeping arrangements in their new room.

"I am so sorry," Jack pulled Race aside with tears in his eyes and hugged him tightly. He would always feel guilty that he couldn't protect Racetrack, that he had banished him to Brooklyn.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Race replied with a smile.

Jack looked him over. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes, which were squinted nearly shut. Wait, was he squinting or grimacing? "You don't look any better."

"I don't feel any better," Race admitted, and Jack led him up the stairs to his new bedroom and tucked him into Snyder's old bed. It felt weird, but Race was too tired to care. He slept for a while until he could feel eyes staring at him. He slowly opened one to be met by Romeo peering at him anxiously. Race smiled and moved over for Romeo to climb in. "I missed you, buddy."

"I missed you, too," Romeo echoed.

"Did he hurt you?" Race knew Snyder would go after Romeo.

"Nah, but he locked me in the closet," Romeo answered.

"It's scary in there, isn't it?"

Romeo hesitated but then nodded. "You felt scared in there, too?"

"Yeah, I always felt scared when Spider was around," Race recounted.

"Me too. I'm glad he's gone."

"You know what's strange, Romeo?" He got a hum in response. "In the last 24 hours, I've slept in my own bed, Spot Conlon's bed, Miss Medda's bed, and now Spider's." Both boys giggled.

Jack appeared at the door to kick Romeo out. Romeo left reluctantly, but not before telling both of his big brothers his plan to get a top bunk in the new room, hoping one of them would sleep below him, but he would settle for Henry or Buttons. Jack smiled at him as he gently pushed him out and closed the door. "How ya doin'?" he asked turning his attention to Racetrack, offering a glass of water.

"Feeling better," Race replied, though his head still felt heavy and he knew he wouldn't be able to move from this bed for at least another day. He took a sip of water, knowing it wasn't an offer but an order from Jack. "I'm worried about Spot, though. Mr. Taylor was not happy to find me as a stowaway this morning."

Jack shook his head at the idea that he had sent Racetrack into another dangerous situation. "I'm sure Spot's fine, you know he's tough. But I'll go check on him tomorrow, alright?" Race nodded. But it wasn't necessary, because just a few minutes later, Crutchie entered Jack's new room closely followed by Spot who had climbed in their old window.

"I wanted to make sure you made it back alive," Spot informed Race. He was sporting a new black eye and some other visible cuts and bruises.

"Yeah, that run from Brooklyn to Manhattan didn't help this headache at all, but I survived it. Are you okay?" Race questioned anxiously.

"Yeah, you look like crap," Crutchie added.

"Oh, I'm fine, it looks worse than it is."

"Spot," Jack started. He couldn't find the right words. "I'm so sorry. You got hurt and it's my fault."

"Don't flatter yourself, I'm fine," Spot repeated.

"You protected Racer. I can't thank you enough."

"Happy to do it."

"You know you're welcome to stay here. Spider's gone, and it's safe now."

"Yeah, I appreciate it, but I gotta get back to my boys." Jack understood. Spot was just like him; neither would ever leave their brothers alone.

"The offer stands," Jack reiterated and Spot nodded. They shook hands. Spot shot a smile at Crutchie and gently touched Race's hair before heading back to Brooklyn, through the front door this time rather than the window now that Snyder was gone for good.


End file.
